Being the ships photographer, I had to carry out photoreconnaissance duties from the ships helicopter alongside the Leading Aircrewman. Joining us was a US Navy Seal officer who would later lead a small Seal team into the beachhead to carry out anti-mine operations. As the helicopter headed inland from the Mohawk, it stayed low, almost hugging the sea to minimise the possibility of being seen by the enemy. The pilot was an experienced "jungley", the navy slang for a pilot who was trained to fly Royal Marine helicopters on operational patrols. He flew the small single engine Wasp as if it were the large twin engine Westland Wessex helicopter he was more used to flying in these situations. It was a heart-stopping ride and I was as much scared as I was thrilled from the experience. All of us in the helicopter, linked together by the internal communication system wired into our flight helmets, were startled by a loud "Sierra Hotel, Sierra Hotel" suddenly filling our ears. It was the voice of the US Seal officer and he continued to say these short words repeatedly as we now flew around the hilly terrain that had suddenly appeared under our flight path. It was not until we landed that we found out what he meant. He was simply expressing his joy of the flight but did not want to say, "Shit hot" in case it offended us.

By now, the helicopter had located the enemy troops ashore, which we had been sent to take photograph of. Both the Leading Aircrewman and I readied our cameras as we swooped in low over the target. We both knew there would be only one chance to make the pass as we needed to head out to sea and out of danger before ground weapons were able to fire at us. The photo run was a success, our films were quickly handed over to the intelligence support team onboard the US Command Ship before we flew back to the Mohawk, our mission now complete. Some time later, I got positive feedback on the photography I had provided for the exercise. This more than made up for the hard time I got from my messmates who were convinced I had been "loathing around in the helicopter" again. I was used to having the piss taken out of me for getting unusual jobs because of my photography work. It was not a problem, my messmates were in the main just jealous that I had the chance to escape some of the routine chores that came with ship life, all because I could use a camera.